-no title-

In between
soaring, falling
laughing, weeping;
the unknown seconds
of trivial
pursuits and
glorious recognition;
fear.
Moment of beginning
Moment of ending
where all is known
resolved or understood
surrendered or lost;
peace.

Locating self

I am not awake
but waking
I am not aged
but aging
I am not learned
but learning
I am not moved
but moving
I am not free
but struggling
I am not brave
but fighting
I am not awake
but am waking

abstemious \ab-STEE-mee-uhs\, adjective:

Morning dew settles
sun is brilliant
the moon is unafraid
still resting
in a sea of blue
and I
wait for the music
in a book
on the far side
of what some call
reality

In secret, I write
the rituals of dreams
calling of she and he
who would be
cast out for Another
By others
who with bundles burn
the moments learned
in the midnight
dance of darkness.

So, modern I
dream of time
watch the candle flame
dance with my thoughts
watch the bird
come as if I called
listen to the water
sing with my whispered
word

For I must be abstemious
of their fruit
the men in gray castles
who deal out forgiveness
with the twist of a bead
and a seed of deception
a waffer of confession
and the wine of 10
none of us have.

So today
I sit as dew settles
sun brilliant
moon unafraid
still resting
in a sea of blue
and wait for the music
in a book
to find me
on the far side
of what some call
reality

Vicarious Visions

Vicious
Vicarious
Visions
Vehemently viewed
through the color
of rose stained
glass windows
on Church Street
where dinner
is served to the poor
and homeless on sunday
after a bout of
motivational-ly fearful
words spill out
like rice
cakes on the floor
hard to munch
hard to swallow
and then there
are those
who are not poor
not hungry
just regularly
requesting rights
routinely written
given and protected
by the representatives
at the front of the
scene
try not to get mean
and trample on the values
we have yet to possess
in all of the contests
they
behind rose windows
do so uphold
with their noses
in the air
looking down


-
How I wish for a stone
to rattle
against the windows
rose
and 'righteous'

What I believe

I believe
in life, love, and
the pursuit
of every person
towards the destination
of their dreams;
in equality
for every person
without interpretation
discrimination
and falsification
by any other;
in our differences,
they make us more
the same than many
want us to embrace;
and
in the divine,
the presence within
and without
echoing in the beautiful
voice of every song,
existing
beyond understanding,
creed, sex, age, religion,
or politics.
I believe in happiness...

life, love, and
the pursuit
of every person
towards the destination
of their dreams.

The music box

(read to George Winston's Japanese Music Box)

The wind moves through the trees; dancing blades of grass.

The petals sing like
tears up
on .
     my .
           face.

ohthecherryblossomsfall
the blossoms fall
fall .
       like .
              snow.

The sun slips through her arms; holding dark shadow.

The petals sting like
tears up
on .
     my .
           face.

ohthecherryblossomsfall
the blossoms fall
fall .
       like .
              snow.

The moon winds up through time; kissing paler skin.

The petals lay like
tears up
on .
     my .
           face.

ohthecherryblossomsfall
the blossoms fall
fall .
       like .
              snow.

Tragic Season

Vermilion kiss
utter bliss
tossed as a gift
of unwanted leaf
in disbelief
to the ground
so sound, cold
and unmet with sun
winter comes
sureal-lian
blue the sky soaking up
the tears of spring
lost in the heart
of fall
this is
the tragedy of season
loss of color
and death of hue
until nature
decides to paint again

Bare Minimum

salvation
salivating
over mediocrity
survival of
a normal
society
captivating simplicity
shattering
outrageous
with religious legal-
i-tea
sipped on summer days
mid-temperature
and mid-way
through the country
striped in blue
bordered in red
wishing democracy was dead
I just wonder
how it all got this way
this middle of the road
don't rock the boat
or make waves
in an ocean of people
each different
each divine
still they drink their wine
getting drunk on
the ideas of mr. in-between
gray squares
of same
singing
amen
and hallelujah.

So how did we get here?
Stripped naked
and
bare
minimum?

-----

Off the cuff in an emotional response to posters against gay-marriage

origami words

they glide down
these paper butterflies
cut recently from used
newspaper
and left behind
sticky notes of memory
quickly catching
morning light
to rest
chaotically
in unswept dust
and discarded ideas
crumpled beneath my chair

Out of the Blue

oil dripping
off a sapphire canvas
speckled with salt
and peppered dreams
waking sleepers
and momentary
joy of existing
overwhelm
the winds of change
and topple doubt
in a climate of
political madness
and lobbist
temptations
when out of the blue
he whispered
"change"
as if it where possible
as if it where true....

and I find myself believing.

Memor amicus

you: passing
somberly
chariot racing
work-wards
my hand: tremor
with the thought
of waves
my heart: bites
down
still bitter
with rage
my mind: sighs
sadness oozes out
as those around
in anger speak
truthfully
of your betrayal.
me: caught
halfway between
forgive and get away
missing the half
of you residing in memory
and forgetting
even the shadow you
leave as you
walk away

How a star behaves

it glitters
splinters
dusts and glows
watching us
move to and fro
like a diamond
upon a ring of night
taking account
of joy and fright
In sadness, in glee
reading the stories
between you and me

this is how a star behaves
a silent observer
of our lives

:Eleanor Rigby: (Beatles / Remade by Godhead)

"Lives in a dream
Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for?" - Paul McCartney


Eleanor and I
sit by the window sill
peering out at the world
never peering back
We make up conversation
sweet and chipper cherry
red delicious conversation
but the world
will not converse back
We have swept the floor oft
we have ironed every curtain
we have scrubbed the floor
till our knees wouldn't bend out
and still
the world will not come knocking
So when the days chores are done
when all is filled, folded and flat
we sit and stare out the window
hoping to find the world
is staring back

Nothing

Our world is always buzzzing
Streets are always filled
Walkways are always trampled
Electronics always blaring
Phones are always talking
and copiers always hum
Sleep is always dreaming
and the waker always thinking
Constant movement and being
always possessing the latest now
and it makes me wonder

about nothing

there is no space for nothing
the quiet sense of absolute
surrendering to silence
and the obliteration of being.

nothing || is not there.

Apartment 1

The day
begins with:
echos of life
racing down asphalt
warm coffee in hand
and not enough sleep.
and the pitter patter of neighbors' dogs
old couch cushions tilting
and my love handing out kisses
as we head out into the frey.
The night
ends with:
the next doors talking to loud
the across the courtyard
conversing on cellphones disregarding echo
while two floors up an argument flares.
In the alleyway
dog tags jingle
for one last
sniff before bed
and
inside this Apartment
is life
snuggling up for a
crime show episode
and dinner on the fly.

Ca•no•rous \kuh-NOR-us; KAN-or-uhs\

It slips,
sips, 
and saunters
across the way
up the stairs
of my soul
resonating
with each memory,
moment and meticulously
kept secret.
It curves
verves, and vibrates
melodic and methodic-
all in its tenor 
and embrace.
I am speechless, 
rendered helpless
to visions and vexations
tears and frustrations.
I sway, dip
spin and twirl
My body not my own
as it moves in, 
out, 
and through me.
Up and down
mixing emotion 
and sound
until
I cannot
stand: Music

Nine Times

Nine times they came
The men in suits
Hands open
Mouths twisted
In false prosperity
Nine times
Nine of swords
Making Ill fated treaties
Of the soul
Nine times
Engine number seven
Billowed its smoke
For Industrial Revolution
While I lay stunned
And watch them come
Like lighting to dry grass
Their fire
Left me thirsty for
A time before nine.

My name is...

My name is wise woman, 
but secretly the wind whispers dreams
or orange dreaming of chocolate. 
My name is many names
many faces
and when we meet
we laugh
knowing our mothers flowed with 
the times.  I don't want to flow. 
I want to be rebel against water, 
sand driving rain backwards, 
clouds calling back moisture, 
wind pulling mountains, 
rebellious.  I want to be 
not what she hoped for - 
white wedding to a man
and 2.5; just other expectations 
to name and watch 
rebel against me.
My name is white. 
but secretly 
hammer of sky
star falling upwards
dreams waking laughter
or just simply 
an immovable
unarguable
.

Appreciate

staring back 
from the mirror I have
yet to clean because of 
work, work-out, and 
other whimsical oblications
is you,
which is me.
and just in case 
I forget
with all the rush 
and the mess
thank you
for being you
for being me
and
the woman you've become
staring back at me.

from page 26 in my copy of PoemCrazy

Silence over whelms me
in this not so crowded room.
A cough and a sneeze are the only
moments reminding me I am more
than an extension of this somberly
straight pencil
and my life more permanent than the word
I just erased.